


Incidental Brain Activity

by thefourofswords



Series: A Handy Guide To Making You Feel Good [3]
Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Alternate POV, Genderswap, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-21
Updated: 2020-12-21
Packaged: 2021-03-11 00:01:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,245
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28225791
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thefourofswords/pseuds/thefourofswords
Summary: While Jonny very much appreciated that Patrick thought he should get the Ted Lindsay for orgasms (direct quote), he wasn’t sure how he felt about the fact that Patrick seemed to just think Jonny could do this for anybody. That he would even want to volunteer himself for that. Like he wouldn’t just make Patrick buy a pile of sex toys if he didn’t get something out of it.*Jonny's POV of The Study of Dreams
Relationships: Patrick Kane/Jonathan Toews
Series: A Handy Guide To Making You Feel Good [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/213098
Comments: 8
Kudos: 107





	Incidental Brain Activity

**Author's Note:**

  * For [luxmachina](https://archiveofourown.org/users/luxmachina/gifts).



> I made a request for possible time stamps, just to flex some writerly muscles, and this one got a bit unruly on me. Thanks go out to routineriots, who always humors my crazy ideas. Unbeta'd. Almost assured tense-craziness bc Jonny is reflecting backwards. Who knows what I'm even doing anymore.

Patrick doesn’t remember when he was TTS’d the same as Jonny does. He always seemed to think of it as Jonny nobly sacrificing himself so that they could turn Patrick back and he could play. Hardly. Jonny liked to think he was a good person, but nobody could be that good without getting something out of it. As a girl, Patrick was stacked, flexible, and he tasted good everywhere. And more importantly, for whatever reason, Patrick and Jonny were into the same things in bed. So yeah, he definitely got something out of it. 

And Patrick would laugh at him, and tease him for getting off to making Patrick come. Not incorrect. Jonny fucking lived for that shit. That he got a weird serotonin rush every time he fucked Patrick into orgasm. Clearly some strand of his evolutionary biology had developed to exceed people’s expectations as a method of survival and success. And Jonny knew it was a little fucking bizarre himself, just how much he liked doing this for Patrick. Somebody else might think well, it’s just that free pussy on tap, who turns that down? But, Jonny slept better when he got Patrick off. He felt less stressed and more in tune with himself and the world around him. Grounded. He felt grounded. There wasn’t actually a whole lot of altruism behind it. 

There were times when Jonny suspected Patrick deliberately played hard to get. Not often. Just sometimes, it seemed like he wanted it to last a bit. Like he wanted it to be fucking for real, not fucking for the sake of making him game ready. And that worked for Jonny, who often wanted to fuck longer than the earth-shattering but nevertheless perfunctory orgasm to switch him back. When Patrick came and turned back into a guy, it seemed like he couldn’t get away from Jonny fast enough. Which maybe in the beginning might’ve been a bit of a relief, but now just felt weird and abrupt. 

The day before he might’ve used Jonny’s hand like a fuck toy to get off hard and fast, and then told Jonny he should consider charging for the service. 

“I’m not out to bankrupt you,” Jonny said with a laugh. 

“No hometown discount?” Patrick said as he pulled his shorts back on. He eyed Jonny over, his shirt in disarray, and his erection in his pants, and Jonny thought, maybe, for a moment, from the look on his face, Patrick was going to offer to blow him. And Jonny surprised himself with the strength of his disappointment, when Patrick went back to his own room and left Jonny to his blue balls and his own thoughts. 

Sometimes, especially after times like that, he wanted it to feel real. So he made them switch positions a lot, interrupting the flow if you will, before something could become inevitable. And when he got into those moods, Patrick never hurried him along. 

He knew that sometimes Patrick needed him to be a fucktoy and TCOB, but other times he needed Jonny to nail him silly and make him feel it for a few days. Thankfully those moods seemed to line up with Jonny’s.

“Easy, you’re going to feel that for a few days if you keep that up,” Jonny said once, while Patrick was riding him into the mattress, rocking against him with all the considerable force in those athletic thighs. It was hot as hell, but also he was pretty sure Patrick would regret it after. 

“No, I won’t,” he breathed, and kept on thrusting his pelvis downward, taking him in harder and deeper on every stroke. “Nothing to feel sore when I change back.” 

And Patrick’s disappearing cunt shouldn’t be so hot, in fact it was downright weird, but the fact that it made Patrick, who was so fucking careful with his body and avoiding injury, reckless was enough to blow the top of Jonny’s head off. 

But then there were other times, where he needed Jonny to touch him gently, until it built into something maddening for them both. Hard presses of his fingertips between slow liquid flutters of his tongue, until Patrick was begging in the back of his throat for Jonny’s cock and his kisses. His soul-rending spine-dissolving kisses, he would say, losing so many of his usual inhibitions in his arousal. And Jonny would chuckle, equally turned on, and always entertained by just how much Patrick was into it, just how much he liked getting Jonny to solve his pussy. 

And maybe sometimes when Jonny was going in really deep towards the end, right before Patrick was about to come, Patrick would get his hands on Jonny’s buttocks, and inadvertently spill how much he’d been thinking of fucking Jonny’s ass. And Jonny would groan, and imagine it, Patrick female under him, clutching him close, and Patrick male, behind him fucking into him, setting the pace, feeding each thrust to himself through Jonny. 

Patrick always seemed to forget he’d said that stuff to Jonny afterwards, that Jonny had got off on it, because he was always apologizing for the ‘imposition’ of his male anatomy once he transformed. Enough that it made Jonny wonder if Patrick was just attracted to him as a girl, and not as a guy. Because that’s what Jonny would do if he wasn’t into it. Make all kinds of excuses that it was his fault so that his partner didn’t feel bad. 

*

Patrick offered him anal, as a girl, like, in a ‘you know, if you want to’ kind of a way, but seemed kinda reluctant also, like he’d tried it when he was still trying to get himself off and hadn’t liked it. Like he didn’t really want Jonny to pick that, but thought he should because he knew Jonny was going to a lot of effort and anal might be a nice reward. And Jonny never liked those reminders, because he was glad Patrick came to him. That Patrick wasn’t choosing anybody else to do this with. 

So Jonny dodged it and asked “What do you like about being fucked as a guy?”

And Patrick had said it wasn’t bad, fingering his ass as a girl, it just was...less. Like he kept expecting something to be there that just wasn’t. Having a clit, having a pussy was completely new. And what he’d liked when he was being fucked as a guy was being fucked hard, that inner pressure against his prostate incessant and mind bending, although he’d said, “most guys don’t use enough lube.” 

Jonny noted that down on one of his many mental checklists. He was thinking about it all the time now, dreaming of it. Fucking Patrick the man silly. Letting Patrick take him apart in turn. And just when he was settling into how confusing and life-changing that really was, Patrick started trying to find someone else to get him off. Intellectually that made sense. This had never been an arrangement about feelings. Feelings between the two of them would be highly inappropriate, not just in a ‘league is intolerant towards the gays’ kind of way, but in a ‘Jonny would be devastated if they ever broke up kind of way’ as evidenced by the fact that they weren’t even together, and he was losing his cool over Patrick trolling clubs to fuck other men. 

And then it hadn’t worked, his stupid club hookups couldn’t get him there, and it seemed like the universe was trying to tell them something. But Patrick thought it was just that the guys were shit in bed, which was, after all, the rap that women frequently gave them. Patrick explained that his sisters had been complaining to him about it like, as their older brother, he could somehow solve this problem for them. 

“Present company excepted,” Patrick had said with a laugh after a day where he’d flicked in and out of his girl body not once or twice, or even three or four times, but on nine separate occasions. 

While Jonny very much appreciated that Patrick thought he should get the Ted Lindsay for orgasms (direct quote), he wasn’t sure how he felt about the fact that Patrick seemed to just think Jonny could do this for anybody. That he would even want to volunteer himself for that. Like he wouldn’t just make Patrick buy a pile of sex toys if he didn’t get something out of it. And yes, yes, they’d gone over how selfless Jonny was in the locker room many a damn time, but he also wanted Patrick so goddamn much and wanted to keep him to himself like a carefully hoarded secret. 

Patrick never seemed to get that when he turned back they were always still touching. That Jonny had been up and close and personal with his gorgeous dick multiple times. And it was an unfairly attractive cock—thick, curved upward just slightly, rosy pink cockhead, and big round balls in a tight sac, snugged close to his body. 

And he also never seemed to understand that when Patrick complimented Jonny on his physique or his face or the way he smelled or the smoothness of his skin, it’s not like Jonny could separate that from the fact that Patrick was the one saying it to him. Sure it was nice whenever people found you hot (provided they weren’t creepy), but it was entirely different when somebody you really, really liked and cared about found you hot. 

But Patrick had got it into his head that his girl body found it harder to trust or some nonsense, and he decided to try chicks instead. Jonny expected to be bothered by the fact that somebody else might finally get him to come, and he’d gone out for a movie with Hammer and Krugs to take his mind off of it, but when Patrick wandered out of his bedroom, rubbing sleep out of his eyes, breasts hanging heavy in a t-shirt he’d clearly pilfered from Jonny’s closet it, he’d thought about his dreams lately, and wondered if they weren’t the sex drunk fantasies he’d assumed, but the sign of his art after all. 

He kept wanting to tell Patrick, hey, I would still want you as a guy, I just _want_ you. It’s not your beautiful breasts and soft perfectly tight pussy and the long blonde hair or the stacked ass. Though that made sense, because just about the only thing that wasn’t completely perfect about Patrick was his fashion sense and his inability to style his own hair. And honestly Jonny was glad of that shit, because if there wasn’t something wrong with Patrick somewhere, how was Jonny expected to live on the planet around him? But the words kept getting caught up in his throat, because it really didn’t seem like Patrick wanted that from him. 

Jonny had prided himself as he got older on his ability to know when to push, and when not to. This couldn’t be one of those times. It wasn’t fair while Patrick was reliant on him just to get his body back into hockey readiness to say, ‘oh hey, I know there’s literally nobody else you can go to, but you should know I have feelings for you.’ And maybe also Jonny was a bit selfish and he didn’t want it to stop. 

*

Patrick expected a no when he finally asked Jonny to fuck him as a guy, that Jonny would somehow be unable to perform if he saw Patrick’s compact muscular chest and v-cut and thick dick. Which, how even? Jonny was starting to suspect from his frequent googling that almost everybody was a little bit gay. 

Rather, he worried about how that could possibly solve anything. Patrick seemed incredibly reluctant, which wasn’t much of a turn on, and they’d been having so much sex and the curse hadn’t abated. Why would Jonny getting him off when they were both dudes suddenly magically be the spell that fixed it all? That was the stupidest thing he’d ever heard. But it was within his abilities to give it, and Patrick wanted to try, and Jonny knew that performance issues were not a worry. He said yes. 

But then when he showed up, and Patrick was so anxious to get it over with, he thought, fuck, maybe the issue wasn’t that Patrick worried about Jonny being into him, it was that he wasn’t into Jonny. Like maybe his brain chemistry changed when he flopped sexes. It could be possible—after all—totally different cocktail of hormones. Maybe Jonny wasn’t his type when he was a guy and he wanted some blushing twink or bear or otter or whatever it was he kept reading about on the internet that he knew he wasn’t. 

But then he kept dreaming about fucking Patrick with that stupid necklace on. 

It was long and slow and sweet, with Patrick in his real body, ass up underneath him, clutching a pillow, chain glinting silver against his pale skin, the whole of his densely muscled shoulders available for Jonny to put his teeth into, although he didn’t. He was good, he didn’t do more than gently scraping his teeth across one blade, cock in so deep at this angle that Patrick was shuddering underneath him. 

He woke up to uncomfortably damp shorts. 

At first he assumed it was because he’d gone from getting laid extremely regularly to having literally nowhere to expend all of the sexual energy his system had gotten used to. He’d always found Patrick bizarrely, stupidly beguiling with that chain visible against his neck, a bit like when you were little and your teacher would bend over in front of you and you couldn’t avoid seeing down her blouse and how that made you feel weird inside. His psyche was clearly going through _something_. 

*

The last time he’d had dreams that were so intense and vivid was two years ago, just before he got into the collision with a stationary object, when his art was desperately screaming at him ‘if you don’t acknowledge this concussion, you are going to do yourself permanent damage’. He’d ignored warnings a lot back when he was younger. Or hadn’t known what his gift was telling him. 

After all, when he was a kid in sunday school they told him that his art was messing with God’s plan. That his gift could easily unravel the whole world in some kind of butterfly effect, where every attempt to influence the future somehow made the outcome more bleak. On the best of occasions, he couldn’t tell what was real and what was a dream. And usually, he wasn’t so emotionally invested in the outcome. How could he be a reliable judge? Small things like checking under his helmet an extra time cost nothing if he was wrong. Telling Patrick he’d dreamed he was going to score during a do or die playoff game when Patrick needed the confidence boost and Jonny knew what he was capable of seemed an equally sure bargain. But this...

After the third night in a row of restless sleep, Jonny gave in. He struggled with putting in enough hours as it was. If he wanted to keep functioning, he either needed a sedative or to check if that necklace was still there. Honestly, based on his own experience, Ambien was the far less attractive option. So he’d swung by Patrick’s place to look, and there it was. 

He hadn’t actually expected it to be there, he realized. He’d thought he was just checking off a box before he had to go to Dr. Terry and have another painful conversation. He told Patrick what he thought it meant, half in a daze, hoping against hope that his art wasn’t just trying to help him find his friend’s lost possessions. 

He’d known he’d gotten it right when that look of understanding had passed over Patrick’s face, and he’d swallowed, and huskily asked, “What did you see, Jonny?” and the question sounded so fucking hopeful. 

Jonny wanted to laugh at them both. They both understood wanting things, and they’d grown up learning how to make those desires into a reality, and yet somehow they’d both taken their foot off the gas here. 

“Because some things matter too much, Jonny,” Patrick had breathed in between kisses after their punch-drunk impromptu wrestling match had ended with lube everywhere and his cock in Patrick’s ass.

And this really wasn’t how Jonny planned this. He’d wanted to make Patrick forget every other man who’d ever done this. His research definitely suggested more prep was necessary unless Patrick had been doing this both frequently and recently. And Jonny knew he’d have thoughts about that later, when Patrick wasn’t begging him to get on with it and he could think about more than just how good Patrick felt inside. 

But when they really got started, that research proved to be useful after all. He knew to build into it, to start slow and rolling, in and out, using his cock to spread even more lube inside. He knew that he could eventually work it up to the hard fuck that Patrick wanted, but that he could make it better than the guys who’d rough fucked him without enough lube. He wanted to move in and out of him smooth like butter, where they reached the place where they fit together with just the right amount of tantalizing drag. 

And afterwards when he was snooping in Patrick’s nightstand for some lip balm for how abraded his lips felt from Patrick’s stubble, he’d found the two toys. 

Patrick had shrugged, unashamed. “Do you know how much I missed getting to fuck you when I stopped switching? It drove me near crazy.” 

Jonny definitely understood. He’d been so grouchy and irritable he’d felt like he was going to explode. 

“The second one is the most like your cock,” Patrick said. “Took me a couple of tries to find it, since I didn’t have a pussy anymore to really test it out and I—” he swallowed. “Wanted it to be the same.” 

Jonny didn’t tell Patrick how relieved that left his poor heart, because Jonny had been so consumed with him for so long, he’d thought he was going insane. It was nice to know if he was insane, at least, he wasn’t alone. 

*

“Do you ever miss how easy it was?” Patrick would ask. He assumed Patrick meant the biological processes that made penetrative sex with a woman comparably less effort. 

No. No, Jonny didn’t, because he didn’t mind coming from handjobs or just from watching each other beat off if they felt they didn’t have the energy for the work that anal required. They got very good at making out while jerking off, finding the correct way to position themselves so they didn’t knock hands. It always inevitably ended with Jonny grinding in close and using both his hand and his cock to rub them both off in a mess. 

Did he like when they had time? Yes. He loved how he could take Patrick apart just from the way he angled his cock into his ass. He knew because Patrick had told him that he’d started thinking of dicks and clits being more similar than they necessarily seemed different. That in both cases there were still more internal structures than were often acknowledged. That to Patrick, playing with his prostate sometimes just felt like getting his dick from the inside. 

Nothing about Patrick ever felt remote during sex. They were together, in the same place, in a way that Jonny didn’t know if he’d ever really felt with anybody else. It was addictive. He probably would’ve fucked Patrick as a guy during the second week if he’d realized that Patrick was interested in him seriously. That he wasn’t about to go embarrass himself by trying out gay sex with someone who just needed to get off when he was stupidly in love. Jonny had only ever offered to get him off to begin with because he’d known he was good at it. If he’d had any doubt, he would’ve let himself be miserable and jealous before offering. 

Which was also what kept him from trying to bottom for a while. What if he was one of those people who couldn’t enjoy it? Who’d embarrassingly lose his erection while being fucked? What if there was an accident or...

“God, you’re such a fucking perfectionist!” Patrick told him, when he caught him reading gay blogs about it during a plane ride. “You hold yourself to standards you’d never hold anybody else to.” 

Jonny kept googling. He’d read sex toy reviews and watched porn and researched questions with actual medical fact. And Patrick thought he was this sex wizard, but Jonny was just good at looking stuff up. They should award Jonny a PhD in problem solving, because he knew how to prepare. 

When Jonny got TTS’d himself only a few weeks later and Patrick held him up against the wall and fucked him, and then ate him out, it seemed stupid to resist any longer.

It had felt amazing, and Jonny wasn’t going to wait for some universal magic to decide to fuck with them both to get it a second time. Patrick had done that to him, in complete control of the moment. Jonny could take it back, or he could let it ride. And he had, because he was pretty sure they broke the mold after Patrick. Hard to imagine you could improve on him. 

There were times he honestly wondered if they’d made his body just for Jonny, his wants and needs and desires. His interests and opposing personality. Because Patrick knew how to make that too-big dick feel good. He knew how to gentle Jonny into it. To hold him through it when he finally got it into Jonny’s ass. All of it was connected. Every neuron aware of every other neuron if he let himself notice it. 

And when Patrick fucked him, he always played with Jonny’s cock, like he couldn’t not touch him there if he tried. It was overwhelming and crazy and when Jonny finally came it felt like some permanent change inside him had been made. He was gonna need this now he knew. Maybe not all the time, because it wrung all the energy out of Jonny’s body, and sometimes he needed that energy for other things, but when they had time and space for it, he was gonna want that. 

Patrick obviously had more of a measuring stick than Jonny for what sex with other men was like, but he thought the logic was sound. 

“You know, before you, face-to-face missionary was often hard to enjoy,” Patrick said. “You don’t really think of that as a ‘skills position,’” he continued. “But at least in my experience, it’s tougher.” 

“How so?” Jonny asked, pretending he didn’t notice that Patrick was tracing 88s on his back. 

“Well, I’d have to direct them a lot, couldn’t really ever relax into it.” 

Jonny rolled over to meet his eyes. He hadn’t thought about it particularly. Patrick never had trouble coming when they were fucking missionary style—guy or girl. 

“The way you do it, you hit it and it actually feels like there’s a curve in your dick,” Patrick explained. “And I like it because then I get to kiss you at the same time.” 

“And lie back and let me do all the work,” Jonny said with a laugh. 

Patrick grinned. “I hear you’re into that kind of thing.” 

Jonny ducked his head, hiding his smile, and shrugged. 

“What do you like about it?” Patrick asked, tangling their legs together. “About getting people to come?” 

“It’s pretty specific to you,” Jonny explained, because Patrick still didn’t seem to get that. Not that Jonny was selfish in bed, but truly, getting Patrick Timothy Kane II, the man who claimed there was no better feeling than scoring goals, to come was pretty damn hot. 

Before he’d started fucking Jonny he hadn’t necesarrily been with that many people who were extra good in bed. Jonny had some experience with that himself. People who were hot and interesting didn’t necessarily have the experience, humility, and openness good sex often required. There had been times when it had felt only slightly better than masturbating. 

“Or sometimes worse, so I wondered why am I even doing this, when my hand can take care of it better?” Patrick said with a sigh. 

But Jonny suspected it wasn’t all down to his research and preparation, or the fact that he got off on getting him off. They’d honed their bodies to the edge of their capabilities, and they could use that during the extremely physical act of sex in ways that maybe others couldn’t. That maybe, because of who they were and what they were, they really were the best suited to touch each other.

Sometimes while fucking, that weird deja vu sense he would get on the ice centering Patrick’s line, where he could see the play Patrick was creating before his eyes that would eventually end in the goal. When they fucked it felt like a cascade of decisions they somehow made independent of each other that always came together into something amazing. And Patrick always knew when Jonny got like that, that he was going to get a little misty eyed.


End file.
